It lay nestled in the desolate and uninhabited land between the Odyllian Mountains, quiet and dormant.
Surrounding it are walls made of massive, pristine white rocks. With the blessing of divine power, not even the harshest weather can leave a trace of dirt on them.
Three brown-red Romanesque domed towers stand tall in the center of the square, with rows of arched windows set in neatly laid red brick walls. Various strange animal sculptures surround the outer railings of the rooftop, and semicircular arches give the entire building a solid and heavy atmosphere. Long suspension bridges connect the towers in the air, forming the entire main hall.
The statues of the twelve apostles were scattered around the main hall, different from their counterparts in the far-off Holy City square as they were clad in armor and holding swords or hammers, portraying a warlike stance.
The wide carpet, crimson with silver edges, runs from the steps in front of the door to the altar. Twenty-four intricately carved pillars surround the area, each adorned with a massive banner depicting swords and holy hammers.
The orange-yellow murals covering the half-arched ceiling depicted a sinking sun, purple clouds, defeated foreigners, humans praying on the ground towards the heavens, and countless apostles with outstretched wings holding spears.
The rays of dawn shone through the stained-glass windows, creating beams of light pouring through.
Just by viewing this sight, even the least devout believers would be moved to tears, kneeling and repenting for their sins towards the shining emblem on the main wall.
Oppression, majesty, and sacredness. These are the first impressions it gives to every newcomer.
Of course, it would be even better without those faint moans that seem to emanate from the deepest depths of the earth, containing endless pain and despair.
Heretic Tribunal, that's the name of this place.
Bishop Roland frowned as he walked slowly down the damp steps, the air filled with moisture and the stench of soil making his nose uncomfortable. The thick moss on the walls, nourished by the dampness, occasionally left greenish slime marks on the Bishop's magnificent robes.
If it weren't for the Papal Decree, he would still be in the Church of the Holy City, enjoying the adoration and worship of the faithful.
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No one wanted to deal with the sadistic tormentors of the Tribunal, not even him as the Bishop.
Inside this underground water dungeon, there were all sorts of grotesque torture devices covered in dried blood. Roland tried to identify them but could only recognize a few, such as the Iron Maiden and the spiked hanging basket.
It seemed that the sadists had invented many new devices.
These monsters made of wood and iron, even looking at them made one feel the pain all over their body.
It was hard to imagine that someone could endure torture from these things for half a year without repenting.
"Praise be to Our Lord, I would rather choose to be burned ten times than to be locked up in here for an hour." Roland muttered to himself in his heart, but immediately regretted this ominous thought.
Passing through the torture chamber, deeper underground, rows of heretics were chained in wooden cages, soaking in water, their bodies marked with horrific wounds.
Without the wails and whispered curses, Roland would have thought that the figures in front of him were just lifeless corpses.
However, there was one person who was an exception.
In the farthest corner cage, a middle-aged, bare-chested man leaned against the bars. In the flickering light of the wall torches, his pale skin reflected a metallic sheen.
"Leo Angertes." Roland stopped ten steps away, "Or should I address you as Your Excellency, the Archbishop, the most honored thief in all of Anno. Of course, in front of the throne of the Light's Seal, all honor and arrogance are equally humble."
Leo lifted his head laboriously, revealing a mocking smile. Perhaps he even wanting to curse crudely - if his tongue hadn't been disabled in the previous torture.
"I am sorry that you could have had a bright future if you had not betrayed the light and fallen into the abyss of heresy." Roland prayed for a few moments, as if the word "heresy" had tainted his mouth, and then raised his voice. "Where are the stolen artifacts and the wicked research material hidden? Perhaps the Church will show mercy, offering you a poisoned chalice instead of the gallows in the square."
After waiting for a while, Roland turned and left. His nose was getting more and more uncomfortable, and there was no need to waste any more time. Besides, he had already obtained many clues in the previous spiritual searches.
On the Byron Empire's coastline, along the famous Golden Horn Bay, there was a secular city called Flondeck. What he wanted was hidden there.
Under the divine spell of exploring holy relics, even if they were placed in a filthy rat hole, he would find it.
If everything can end perfectly, then he will be one step closer to the position of the Archbishop.
Leo silently watched Roland's back, the ripples on his lips growing bigger and bigger, until that eerie and crazy smile spread across his entire face.
He opened his mouth and screamed wildly without saying a word. If he could make sound, the meaning of those few syllables would be:
"I will eventually be immortal."